


Before You Wake

by Sonny



Series: Desolation Road [3]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-27
Updated: 2004-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-12 13:50:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/Sonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is devastated by Ben's infidelity, at a weak moment. Brian is with him at the time and has to watch Michael suffer through his emotions. When Michael feels that he has no one on his side, but Brian... he turns to him in a time of need where Brian's decision will either make or break him. What will Brian do in order to protect his best friend? ; In the aftermath of the explosion that has destroyed Michael's store, Brian will face the ultimate decision of how to move on with Michael. Michael will not make this situation any easier for Brian. There is a moment of time *before Michael wakes* where Brian finds himself and begins to discuss, in his own mind, what will happen between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be the beginning to a series of mini-fics based on this plot. The first fic will describe the Why? of what will happen (DRS #1 - A Soft Place To Fall), the second will describe the What? of what is happening (DRS #2 - Walk Away)... then every following story will trail the rest of the plot until an eventual ending

**DESOLATION ROAD SERIES - Fic #3  
**

There is a moment in time, when one is by themselves, between waking and sleeping, where realities seem to collide. I honed this skill when I was younger. I honed this skill because of Jack Kinney.

Once my father found satisfaction in my downfalls, beating me until he felt satisfied, spent and exhausted, I trained myself to exist outside of my body. Sounds like some pretty trippy, loopy shit, but it helped. It helped me survive the day to day barrage of pain and ridicule never meant for a young child my age.

I had this special skill that only I seemed to understand. My older sister, Claire, often thought I had been knocked unconscious, or worse... left for dead. But, yet, she still did nothing to help me. Except call Joan over to check me out. As soused as Mom was on her liquid sedatives, I couldn't guarantee that she truly even touched me to be sure I had a pulse or was still breathing. Sometimes she'd kick me, with the toe of her soft slipper, to quit playing around and come out of the mind trance I'd placed myself in.

After having met Michael, I began to learn that there were others out there who found themselves using the same special skill I had first thought was my very own. I wasn't crushed to learn I wasn't THAT extraordinary. In fact, it made me excited enough that someone else could understand me. Know where I needed to go whenever the bullshit in my life seemed to pile up.

The first time I witnessed Michael in his *trance* was with Debbie.

We'd done some pretty crappy hijinx stuff at school, got in trouble and thought it was better to face Michael's Mom than my own parents. Well, this wasn't as good of an idea as we thought. Debbie had hit her I-Had-It-Up-To-Here level, for the week, and we were innocently walking in on a latent tropical storm brewing in the Novotny household.

I knew Michael wasn't perfect. I knew that Debbie was a single mom trying to raise her son as best she could. But once I came into the picture the things that were once important became less so, for Michael. He got the brunt of her frustrations.

Debbie's little *baby* boy suddenly didn't like being *babied* much anymore.

The clincher would usually be the very first thing she said out of her loud ass mouth. What would set Michael off, into complete silence, zoning out in his head.  
 _  
 ****Thank God your father never lived long enough to see what kind of a son you're turning out to be.****_

Then Michael's eyes would dilate into quiet, staring off into space. Debbie's next words would fall on deaf ears.

I knew she was trying to get some rise out of Michael. It soon became the ONLY thing she used to get him to react. Michael grew numb after awhile. I could tell what was happening inside of him. I could see what was overcoming his features. I had done it to myself a thousand times before.

A heavy sense of guilt. Misplaced guilt, in truth.

Maybe we could have been better sons. Jack wouldn't have ever hit me. Michael's supposed father would still be alive.

If we were good enough, star pupils and winning accolades here-n-there... the *apples* of our father's eyes... our lives would be so much different.

Often times... reality sucked.

Being able to escape, into our thoughts and minds, we found out that the Imagination was twice as better than reality. We wanted to live there, badly.

Where Michael's father was alive and desperately wanted his son, no matter what. Where Jack was non-existent and I could have a mother who loved me and a sister who tolerated a younger brother.

Nothing's changed since we've gotten older.

When we became fast, best friends, finding more similarities in our differences, there was a moment of the day when we could slip away. Possibly fantasize about these possibilities as if they could somehow  
come true.

I still find myself, waking up from a dead sleep at four in the morning, simply wishing things to be different. You'd be shocked to learn I actually craved those times, discovering that I was happy on those occasions. Or what could be considered *happy* for the likes of Brian Kinney.

With Michael, these precious moments... they nearly killed me, emotionally.

Don't ask me when my thoughts began to shadow a likely future with him. That the idea of true love could enter my life.

I would lay by his side, watching him sleep. My eyes tracing every line of his features, waiting for the split second when he'd open his chocolate brown eyes and I could dive in, without a care. Break out in a wide smile and immediately share my thoughts with him, no words needed to convey my meaning. My mind wandering to a place where we were free enough to show our affection in public without ridicule.

  
Let others know what real love looked like. It wasn't jaded and misdirected. We weren't out to change each other. In fact, we knew what the other wanted. We had silent communication between our eyes, our touch. We became that exact thing when the time arose, for one another.

I gave Michael my strength, when he felt too vulnerable and weak.

Michael gave me love and tender care, when I felt sorrow overwhelm me and I couldn't put one foot in front of the other to move on.

We taught one another how to be the men we were growing into. We, sort of, raised each other, without realizing it. We knew there would possibly come a time of separation. Where it would seem like we split apart, having our own lives. I think we tried to hold back those times as much as we could.

I tried to break away first, but that didn't work out so well. College had been a reckless endeavor for me. I tried to quit Michael cold turkey. He's the kind of person where you need to stave off his personality gradually. Cut yourself to the quick, you'll crave him like a delicious cup of warm cocoa on a chilled winter evening. Soothing and scintillating all in the same breath.

I came back from college with my tail between my legs. Michael looked at me with different eyes from then on. Eyes that became wary of my place in his life. Wondering if he actually mattered to me, which he did. More than he knew, or would ever want to know. It was sickening me to discover I could want someone that badly in my life. It scared me into fleeing.

But the pain of not having him to talk to, daily, and seeing him, was worse than being near him and keeping our close friendship intact. I never felt comfortable enough to pursue the romantic side of our potential relationship.

As Michael matured in front of my eyes, the words once thought of as pure jests became a certain truth. Michael was sexy and *hot*. He filled out his clothes in a distinct way that made me take a second, and sometimes, a third glance. I was sure I had missed some opportunity placed before me when I left for college.

I had been so gung-ho to be out on my own, I dropped the ball. I had left Michael in the dust, where so many other people in his life had put him. I didn't like knowing I was just like everyone else. I had to be out of the ordinary.

I couldn't lose his love and adoration. I had to work my way back into his good graces.

I wasn't foolish, though. I could only allow Michael to see me to some extent, on the inside. Everything else he found out was from his own doing. I admit leading him on, a time or two. Taking the groping one inch further, extending the length of times our mouths met in order to get just enough of him to be satiated.

I knew when to stop, pause the moment and deep breathe.

I'd been able to prevent myself from showcasing my true feelings for quite awhile.

That was before Ben and Justin had their affair behind our backs. And I found myself back in Michael's life, twenty-four-seven.

Before Michael had spent his entire savings, from Rage, to finance two business rental properties with an option to own the living space above the neighboring stores.

Before Michael's world exploded... literally, in his face. Red Cape Comics was no more. Blown to smithereens from an accidental, once-in-a-lifetime gas leak explosion from underground.

Why am I thinking about this now?

Those moments where Michael and I seemed to connect in the early morning hours, sleeping in the same bed. Those horrendously silent, peaceful moments when I could take my filling of Michael, while he slept. Me laying for hours restlessly sleepless, simply staring at his beautiful features, inhaling his thrilling scents and soaking up his intense warmth from wherever our naked skin touched.

I suppose I'm thinking about those moments because, here I stand, Old Pitt bottle in my grip, taking long sips, leaning back on the bar at Babylon. I've been eyeballing the crowds of men since we entered over an hour ago. I'm disappointed in the pick from tonight's litter.

There's nothing on the dance floor that I want... Except Michael.

Michael has been tempting me to no end these past few weeks.

Yeah, my best god-damn fucking friend, Michael Charles Novotny.

Ten minutes ago he was standing right by my side, leaning against my body, hanging over my shoulder, enveloping me in his essence. I was growing hard by his simple touch, his eager, friendly caresses. He had no idea and I wasn't gonna tell him.

Michael felt like dancing tonight, sweating out the old ghosts from his soul. I was pleased simply watching him. That was until he'd gotten more than one or two interested parties on the dance floor.

Not that I wasn't expecting anyone else to find Michael attractive, but that I didn't feel compelled to do a damn thing about it. I couldn't put one square-toed booted foot in front of the other. I couldn't place a claim on *my* man, because I truly didn't know where I stood in Michael's mind.

Ben's desertion had been hard to take, for both of us. I had thought their relationship was solid. I could hear the *wedding bells* clang every time I was around them. But something had overcome Ben one night, I suppose, when he was thinking about Michael and his close friendship with me. I guess Justin didn't help much by showing a supportive nature, turning one night of sex into a long drawn out affair.

Sunshine had never been far from showing me one up, proving he was a much better predator than I was. Like I was past my prime. Whatever. I was done playing games, he had just gotten started.

Justin couldn't count on me anymore for much, in a place to live or money to spend. Nice to know I was good for something. My slip back into a job search wasn't much fodder for making plans for vacations and buying new technical gadgets.

Of course the accident, the explosion at Red Cape, had brought Michael and I closer than usual. There was no sexual activity started. But we could barely be away from one another the first few days after my release from the hospital.

Our kisses and touches had more meaning behind them and seemed to last even longer than before. We found a silence in our togetherness where we could sink into the simple thought of having each other back in our lives, alive and well. We never talked about the future of an *us*.

We were too scared to admit our fears, too stupid to succumb to our mutual attraction.

Michael took care of me and I helped Michael with the colossal mess left behind. Handling the massive clean-up involved and dealing with the police, insurance companies and local government officials.

I was able to find that every single one of Michael's hardcore fans, of the Red Cape Comic store and the Rage comic, was willing to donate money or their time to help out anyway they could. In no time flat, everything salvageable was placed in storage, ready for when Michael reopened in his new store front.

A week following the explosion that rocked Red Cape, the bulldozers and wrecking crew arrived to remove the rest of the dilapidating building. In under twelve hours, there was a huge space where Buzzy's used to live. Where Michael had found his true calling, as a growing young boy and nearly twenty years later as a maturing male adult.

All Michael had to do was bide his time with the realtor. Once things got square about the initial purchase and Michael signed on the dotted line... then Michael and I could truly start our life on a clean slate.

Literally, walking away from the rubble of our lives.

Funny, that *I* was the one who sustained more serious injuries than Debbie or Michael. They were the ones caught in the blast, but I was the one who tried to run for the exploding building and got blown backwards. A few cracked, bruised ribs and a bump on the back of my head. First degree burns down my right forearm, from when the coffee cups had been knocked out of my hands. And, strangely, I had pulled a few groin muscles as I was getting up so quickly after being knocked unconscious.

Nearly three weeks later, all I had left to show, for the tragedy, was the ace bandage on my right forearm. Plus every time the weather barometer pressure dropped I'd feel a tight pull on my groin. And it wasn't a pleasurable pain.

This time, though, at Babylon, watching Michael enjoy himself in abandonment to the music... the hardening of my groin was more welcoming, then the usual pain. My only problem was knowing there was no possible way for relief. If it was simple pain, I could take one of my pills or inhale some weed. But there didn't seem to be an instant cure for my constant aching tonight.

Almost losing Michael had brought one feeling to the forefront. I DID love him.

More than I ever thought possible with one human being. The fact stared me directly in the face. My life spiraling down into one truth I had known for years.

And I dragged something else along with me, though. My fears. I was scared to grab hold of the reigns. The ***What Ifs*** were plentiful. Too many misgivings in my way. I knew what was important to me now.

Michael... Gus... and Michael's unborn child.

My career prospects didn't bring me much joy anymore. It was simply easier to make excuses to Cynthia to why I couldn't begin my business, yet.

My only relief came from sitting secluded with Michael, during our late night chit-chats as he could brainstorm with me for hours on end. About his new comic store and my newly self-run advertising Agency, Astro Dynamics.

Some days it felt like there was fuel churning a new fire within. Then something, or someone, would remind Michael of what had happened. He would then slip back into his head.

This time, though, unlike years before, Michael wouldn't allow me in. He would sink into a serious depression as if I wasn't even there. I can only assume this had been what he was like when I went away to college. Out of respect I never approached him, I let him come to me. I made him very aware I was in the room, but I never forced him to admit his failures.

I didn't think they were failures. I was looking at them, now, as more of the stepping stones to our eventual getting together. The beginnings of our deeper, romantic relationship. Possibly... even... lovers...

This past week was the start to the construction on our new businesses. The realtor had finally contacted Michael to sign the contracts. Money had become no object.

The insurance companies had quickly shuffled out a settlement check to make up for the loss of Red Cape. Now, Michael had more than enough money to begin. Fuck! Michael graciously included me in on a mutual bank account, a blending of our dreams as a small business corporation.

We weren't rich, but we were better off than what we were before. We were comfortable, with the opportunity to get fuckin', stickin', filthy rich

What continually made my throat clog up was Michael's insistence of sharing his money with me. I thought I didn't deserve a dime. In my secret heart, I hadn't wanted Michael to put a *dollar amount* on our relationship. When I was rolling in dough, I helped Michael when he was down-n-out for no other reason than that I had known he'd do the same for me if it was the other way around.

Now, that the *other way around* was here, I couldn't hack watching him write checks out to me. I felt cheap and useless. I wanted to rip them up and throw the pieces in the garbage.

The problem was Michael spent money like a child enjoys an ice cream cone. Pure bliss in the simplicities of making someone else smile, or getting his own enjoyment out of providing for himself.

There were too many times I got caught staring at him, in wonderment and amazement, at how beautiful he truly was. How could I have let those years slip us by? Why hadn't I been smart enough to take Michael when I had wanted to, all those years ago?

Ben was a fool. But then if Ben hadn't been a fool, where the hell would I be now?

I took the last sip of my beer before I was determined to step out onto the dance floor. Michael had enough time on the playground. I either wanted to dance a few more songs with him or head on home.

Our temporary *home* being the loft. Michael had gladly left the apartment to be split between Emmett and Ben.

During all the hub-bub with the Red Cape explosion, we decided to pack up Michael's belongings and head on over to the loft. The real estate agent had pretty much stated the loft dwellings above our store fronts were already livable. Some sparse furniture and the utilities would be turned on once construction began.

Strangely, I was growing very tired, needing our bed in the next half-hour or I'd collapse. Yeah, I know... *our* bed sounded like we were already lovers, but it was as platonic as it's always been. I had bought a new king-sized mattress, to replace the spoiled one. Bought new sheets, matching bed linens, for Michael. I couldn't bear to see him suffer on the couch. Whenever Michael couldn't stand me in the bed, I was the one who took the couch. I was used to the awkward cushions.

Placing one foot in front of the other, I approached with an already bruised heart. I had been feeling a different vibe from Michael all night.

I knew it well. I had perfected the *look* nearly my whole life. The *I-Don't-Give-A-Shit-I'm-Gonna-Fuck-Any-Boy-I-Want-Tonight* look that won me over so many new playmates for the evening.

The persona didn't fit Michael. I felt I had to rescue him soon or leave on my own, which would be a first. The minute I strolled closer, I saw him.

Ben, I mean. Naked to the waist, Justin hanging off him as they seemed lost in their own world.

My eyes darted over toward Michael. One of his companions reached into a front pocket to pull out a vial of powder. Some special blend to snort. I closed my eyes drawing on some hidden faith that those words I'd mumbled over and over had somehow wormed their way into Michael's subconscious.

"Don't do it, Mikey. You only do drugs with your best friends. Only... me."

I reopened my lids to find Michael's companion harshly grabbing naked biceps, nearly forcibly pulling him flush with his muscular front. Michael was already on some adrenaline *high* or an alcoholic induced rush as he hung weakly off the strong grip.

I pushed my way through the crowd. "Would you mind letting my boyfriend go?!" I didn't care how people read into my harsh request. Or that Ben and Justin were in listening distance.

Michael dipped his head backwards. "Heeeeeyyyyyy, Briiiiiiiaannnn." A weak smile was released as giggles poured out.

The bronzed twink threw his glazed eyes in my direction. "Boyfriend? He didn't mention..." The intensely dilated eyes looked me over as a great prospect instead. "You two like threesomes?"

I stepped up to draw Michael's arms from around the young man's neck. "Not tonight. Possibly never." I wrapped Michael's hands about my neck, my arm about his waist. "Come on. One more dance and then we're going home."

Michael hung off my shoulders, titling his head back and swaying to the music. "Hoooommmmee. Now that's the best offer I've had all evening." He chuckled at the sensations trying to look at everyone  
upside down made his head feel.

The second he stilled to quiet in my arms, I knew he'd caught sight of Ben, with Justin. And their very dirty dancing.

Michael quickly righted himself, letting go of the softest, most heart wrenching sigh in weeks. He closed his eyes, trying to work the dryness out of his mouth away. Any second he looked like he might purge something. "Shit!" His head lulled into his hand. "I thought I'd be good, Brian." He whispered in a hush. "I told myself I'd be fine if this was gonna happen."

I jostled him in my grip, my arms secure about his slim waist. I crossed my arms over his back, cradling him near my racing heart. I tucked my head near his ear. My mouth brushed the delicate lobe. "You are good. You are doing fine. Look at what's happened up until this very moment, Michael. You're still here and standing." Michael chose that very second to loosen his tight muscles, weakly crumbling into my embrace. I played it off like Michael had given me the chance to lead in our dance. "He doesn't have to know what's in your head and heart, Mikey. You can keep that for your very own. But on the outside... be a man. Show him you're finding out you were better off."

Michael tried not to glance back at the Happy Homewreckers. "Christ! They look..."

"Pale? Fat? Wasted?"

"No." At least that got Michael to chuckle, although it was very weak. "Content." He shook his head in awe. "I thought..."

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" Michael swiveled his head back. His chocolate eyes sharp, intense and ready for battle.

"Sell yourself short, for him. If I'm not mistaken, you two were that way with one another, as well." I couldn't believe I was feeling compelled to say these words. I always thought only *I* could make Michael the happiest. Everyone else was simply mediocre.

Michael bowed his head in embarrassment. "Could have fooled me."

"So... what? You think he thinks you weren't enough? Enough of a man to keep him satisfied?"

"Something like that."

"Then does that mean, since he's with Justin, right now, this proves JUSTIN is enough? More of a man to fill your shoes? A better lover than you?" I knew all the answers already. I could see them written on Michael's drooping face.

Michael didn't respond verbally. He simply dropped his hands from around my neck, trailing them down my chest and sides. He ended up encircling my waist. His heated body frame drew closer as he rested his flushed cheek on my shoulder. He wanted to burrow deep, like he normally did when we were laying in bed, asleep.

My arms moved to wrap and hang off his shoulders. I liked cuddling with Michael on the dance floor. Our foreheads met, the sweaty skin blending in time.

My dick began to throb like it would do whenever Michael was near me lately.

"OH-Kay! That's it!" I attempted to play this moment off as something else entirely. I disturb Michael at peace. "We're going home. YOU... are clearly not making any sense whatsoever."

Michael let out a choked snicker on the heels of sadness. "But the night is still young, Brian."

"But WE aren't, Michael."

"Speak for yourself."

That's when I lost him. Not physically, but mentally. There was no way to get him back, reel him in again. It wasn't that my confidence was lacking. I couldn't believe that I would be much influence in Babylon.

Strange to be the sober one of our friendship, for once.

Michael was avoiding direct eye contact with me, like a guilty lover. His hips jutted in mid air, swaying to the beat. His raven black locks were damp with moisture. His head seemed bowed in shame.

"Michael..."

"Huhhhh...?" Michael slurred out, unable to keep his head up.

I knew right then, my heart palpitating, that I had to get Michael out of here as soon as possible. "Michael?" I grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at me, smacking his cheeks to wake him up. "What did you take?"

"Nuthin'!" Michael very awkwardly tried to push me away, but I didn't let go.

The signs were clearly there, blatantly informing me that Michael had taken something *extra special* without my knowledge. The problem became figuring out When? From Whom? And then What?

My stash of drugs at the loft had been slowly disappearing. There was no telling what Michael could have swallowed without asking me for permission.

I was close enough to the bar that I maneuvered us backwards toward the counter. I signaled to the bartender for a bottled water. "Look at me, Mikey!" In one hand, I clamped on his chin, forcing our eyes to meet.

Michael tried to squirm out of my keeping. "Leave it alone, Brian."

"No." My soft spoken words made him pause. I literally had his arms pinned to his sides, which he then tried to use his head to buck my chin. "Quit it!" He connected once. Shit! I bit the tip of my tongue! "Michael!"

"YOU QUIT IT! It's none of your fuckin' business what I do with my life!" Michael uncharacteristically barked at me, but quickly looked as if he'd like to take every word back.

"Wrong. YOU are my fuckin' business!" I shook him to draw home my point of his worth to me. "Whether you want to be or not." I reached for the perspiring bottle, opened the cap, handing it over to Michael. "Drink this." I knew this was the drugs talking. Coming down of the unnatural high, finding a lull and trying to cope with fucked-up emotions in the way.

Michael unwilling grasped the bottle, chugging down the cooling liquid.

I was about to compose a nice, long-winded speech, for Michael's benefit, When I noticed Michael rolling his eyes. He turned around to face the bar. My arms imprisoned Michael, to the counter, from an easy escape.

"Oh... Fuck!" As Michael shuffled in my arms, he shifted his head away from whomever was approaching.

"Michael..." Ben had sidled up as easily as if we'd been *pals* for decades. Justin was clinging to his naked back, laying a cheek on the muscular shoulder. Their blond heads leaned close together. One of Ben's hands, tentatively, reached out to touch Michael's bare forearm. "I..." He choked on his next words, unable to continue.

Michael suddenly realized how close both men were to him, then turned again. His back was rudely facing them. His right hip shuffled against my engorged, hardening groin.

Justin noticed and felt the awkwardness of the whole situation, deciding to fill in the silence. "We just got back yesterday. Ben had a writing/teaching conference in Reading. We heard about the store, Michael."

Michael wouldn't even acknowledge anyone was near or that anything had been said.

Well, I had enough. Ben looked tragically apologetic and Justin appeared a little too smug for my taste. "Are you two done? You've accomplished your good duties for the night. Now get the fuck away."

"We're not...!" Justin had, apparently, had his claws sharpened while he was away.

Ben kept his arm about his precious blond boy toy, before he spewed anymore animosity. "YES! We are. This was a bad idea. Let's go, Justin."

Wow! The Professor had more control than I thought.

As Justin stomped off, Ben stayed behind to return. He came at Michael from the other side. "I'm so very sorry, Michael."

Michael squeezed his eyes shut, like that would protect him from any heartache. "About?"

"Everything." The side of Ben's mouth lifted. His emotions were too mixed up to express at the moment. "Please know..." His hand finally made contact with Michael's bare forearm. The quick flinch, at the warm, gentle touch, was there. "Should you need anything, at all, you can call on me. At any time, day or night."

I squinted my eyes toward Ben, unsure that those exact words were exiting his mouth. Was he being serious? Where had HE been for Michael these past few weeks?

Again, the neat trick of mine had happened. Those freaky powers of invisibility.

Why was it only feasible for Michael to see me as someone to rely on in times of trouble? Everyone else thought I was a selfish bastard, thinking all I could offer was cold hard cash. Which could be true for some, but not with people I truly had affection for. And most certainly when it came to Michael.

"Uh, that's splendid for you, Ben. But... thanks. I won't need your petty handouts any longer." Michael chose that second to reopen his lids, sink into my haphazard embrace and look intently into Ben's face. "I'll be fine. Right where I am." He made sure to look directly at me while he proclaimed the words aloud, while petting my forearm across his abdomen. "Appreciate the concern."

Ben sighed heavily, fully understanding the need for Michael to react this way. "I've always said this, but I can see the fact as plain as day. You ARE a good man, Michael Novotny." He then turned to leave, but reached out to pat my exposed shoulder under my sleeveless sweater. "You better fuckin' earn this, Kinney."

Ben disappeared, wandering off with Justin in tow, mixing into the throngs of half-naked men, like cowboys dissolving into a sunset.

"Or what?!?" I knew what Ben had meant, but I simply wanted to see if Michael was awake and paying attention. I was about to swivel around, calling after Ben, but Michael was quick to grab around my elbows.

"Dance with me." The words didn't sound like a question or even an easy request, more like a harsh demand.

I shook my head. "No. I'm supposed to be taking you home, Michael." I was as stern as I could be when Michael stood on his tippy toes, trailing his fingers up my arms to encircle my neck. The action drew his features even with mine. Our noses brushed, our pelvises thrust together.

"Come on..." Michael lips began a delicate, sensuous trail from behind my ear, along the corner of my jaw and down the stretch of my jaw line. "One... measly... dance. It's ALL I'm asking for, Brian." He was pleasantly teasing me, pausing at the tip of my chin, in anticipation of another stolen kiss.

Oh, yeah... I could easily take this into the backroom, here at Babylon. The idea of beginning anything remotely sexual with Michael in this loud, smokey, raunchy club disturbed me. With anyone else, I'd drag them away in a heartbeat. "Okay. ONE!!" I held up one index finger. "Then we leave..."

Michael didn't allow me to complete my thought. We were back on the dance floor, Michael having tugged me behind him. He didn't care about being on the outskirts of the floor. He wanted to BE the center of attention, under the kaleidoscope disco ball.

The rhythmic beat was infectious. Michael was feeling a renewed headiness from whatever enhancers he had taken. I don't know that I liked him this way, without being able to control him. Alone, maybe at the loft, I could take a fair advantage. At Babylon, the worst public forum, I felt compelled to curb my enthusiasm. My usual leverage over Michael was dormant. I let him have the upper hand, do whatever he felt he had to do to me, and my body.

I, also, had nothing to stand on to prevent him from wandering off from my side.

Shortly, after we began dancing, finding our pace as a couple, Michael grew more courageous, bolder. There was normalcy in his gentle hands, flitting over my frame. But the roughness at the belt of my pants was new.

The masterful yanking to undo the clasp of my belt and then my zipper, coupled with the slow playful trek of his lips towards mine, took me by surprise,

I should have stopped it sooner. I let it go too far. My curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to know what Michael had in mind for me.

Biting at my full bottom lip, sucking on the flesh, Michael breathed his toxic words into my mouth. "I need you, Brian." His nimble fingers dipped tentatively down the front of my pants, discovering I managed to be slightly more conservative than usual. He decided to smooth the material of my underwear over my growing cock. Continuously rubbing the pulsating length, he inwardly groaned, licking his lips. "I want you... to fuck me."

I could say no words in reply as Michael delved into fully taking possession of my open mouth. For once, I let the powerless feeling overwhelm me. I'd always harbored a belief that sex with Michael would be achingly passionate and heart-stoppingly breathtaking. That I would have to change too many dynamics of my life in order to match his potency

Nice to know I was never wrong about some things.

Something in me made me want to stop this whole situation from continuing. There were too many obstacles between us that could sour the moment. As scintillating as the offer was, I would feel terrible in the aftermath if I went along with Michael's wishes.

Michael could sense me drawing back, prepared to put a stop to his sexual advances. He latched onto me, more tightly. His brow furrowed in hopeful confusion. "Don't, Brian. Don't reject me, too..."

Those words pierced my heart.

Michael had made up his own mind to give me a pleasure to satisfy me. Surely would make me bow to his every whim.

My mind couldn't grasp that the man moving to kneel at my feet, willing to go down on me for an invigorating blow job... was my best friend.

"Get up." I managed to warble out trying to shuffle out of his hold on my hips. I had to end this debacle right now. "Get the fuck up, Michael!"

My heart nearly broke into tiny shards as Michael rose, pulling himself slowly up. I bore witness to the tracks of tears dripping from his somber eyes.

"Oh, Christ... Mikey." I pulled Michael back into my arms, swaying us together, letting him vent against my sweater. At least the echoing bass of the music drowned out his sobs.

I didn't know who to blame for these tears, but I wanted them to disappear. This was my chance to take Michael back home, no matter what excuses he gave me.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**

  
I had him. I swear I did. I was taking him by the hand, moving through the heated bodies of prime, horny gay flesh. I was prepared to make our way to the Stingray to head home. I thought Michael was ready. I thought he’d had his fill of Babylon. I can only assume, if this moment had occurred months ago, I would have been more willing to remain here and Michael would have been the one dragging me out.

Felt odd, but strangely right to have our roles so easily reversed.

I lost my grip on him as I weeded our way to the coat check counter. I paused, reached into my pocket to pull out our ticket stubs. As I was handed our jackets, I slipped the employee a *five* for his trouble.

The phone number/email address on paper I was traded for, along with the subtle wink, told me of an interested prospect. Too bad for him that it wasn’t mutual.

"I get off in an hour." The dark-haired cutie had leaned across the counter to tell me this pertinent information.

"And, hopefully, so will I. Once I get the fuck outta here." I quickly turned to watch Michael disappear back toward the main room of Babylon. Apparently his over emotional breakdown from two seconds ago was forgotten.

"Looks like that will be a solo flight." The dark-haired cutie shrugged his shoulder in mock sadness for my disappointment.

My first instinct was to flee the scene, totally. Forget Michael ever existed. Fuck him! I didn’t need this bullshit.

But this was Michael. I still had no idea what drugs he’d taken. I wasn’t as upset as I had thought, originally. I wouldn’t bail on him, with no ride back to the loft.

Besides, hadn’t Michael waited on my ass plenty of times? It was only fair that I gave him the benefit of doubt.

I put on my hip-length leather jacket, rolling Michael’s light tan corduroy coat over my folded arms on my chest. I promised myself, on the inside, that I’d watch him as closely as I could. I’d keep my distance, only allowing him to finish out the night on the dance floor. The second I saw any funny business moving toward the backroom, I’d steal Michael back, under duress.

I’d admit it was because I couldn’t protect Michael from that kind of distance. That I didn’t want him to be taken advantage of in his overly emotional, drug induced euphoria.

The truth was, beyond a shadow of doubt, Michael was *mine*. He was my fucking business. And if I could prevent it, I was planning on being the next man Michael had sex with, after his break-up with Ben.

I had to bide my time. I was ready, willing and waiting, but Michael was still lost.

Granted Michael had been burned too often by his monogamous boyfriends, so he deserved some time to be alone. To become the roaming bachelor of Liberty Avenue. But he had never been built that way. He wasn’t made for numerous nights of unadulterated, anonymous, casual sex. He loved to play it off like he could be just like me, but the die-hard romantic in him would constantly be heartbroken.

I wasn’t prepared to watch him go through the kind of heartache I’ve been able to master.

Michael’s choice in men went beyond his normal pick. The guy was HUGE, massively muscular. Michael looked like a little boy up against that perfectly sculpted chest, glistening with oils and sweat. A single silver necklace adorned the thick neck. Equally thick hands delicately caressed Michael’s arms, down to his fingers, passing to his thrusting hips. One beefy palm smoothed an area of Michael’s groin and pushed backwards, causing ass and groin to meet. A complete circle was danced with their joined pelvises as the man’s other hand lifted Michael’s left arm to reach back and wrap about his partner’s neck.

Michael’s eyes were closed while all this was going on. He let the man think he was leading, but it was each tiny movement of Michael’s that caused the different positions to happen. At one point, I had thought Michael was looking directly at me, but I was foolishly optimistic.

All Michael could really see, in front of him, was chaos. He was in a haze of his own mind, simply making his body move of it’s own accord.

They danced for more than one song. After awhile, I had lost count. I was losing myself in watching Michael and his decadent body and wicked actions. It was interesting to notice he didn’t need another body on the floor to dance with. His own imagination was carrying him through every move he made. The other men were just window dressing.

Instead of the backroom, I could see the interest becoming leaving Babylon. Quite possibly taking what had been started on the dance floor to a real bedroom, on a real bed.

Head bowed, Michael numbly followed his new conquest out. They were far enough away from me, that I could still play a voyeur until I felt ready to re-introduce myself. Michael was somewhere else, in his head, that I began to fear that he’d pass me by. I didn’t feel comfortable being ignored that easily.

Michael paused, putting a hand in his pocket, probably looking for his coat check ticket. He rolled his eyes, closed them, recalling that HE hadn’t held onto them, ***I*** had. I was fairly certain he thought I was long gone by now.

I pushed off from the wall I was holding up, holding out his jacket. The soft material brushed his bare arm.

Michael jumped back a bit, slightly startled. Hand to his heart, he laughed weakly, swallowing the shame down his throat. "Jesus, Brian!" He covered his flushed face with his hand. "I thought you’d left." His eyes darted over to the new conquest waiting for him. We had our mannerisms being watched intently. "How long have you ben standing here?"

"Long enough." I hid my nervous hands in my jacket pockets. I wasn’t sure what I’d do with them if Michael came near. "Ready to go?" I could feel the stranger’s eyes on me. The poor man looked about ready to devour Michael. I was silently giving Michael the option to choose.

Michael continued to shake his head in bewilderment. "I was so sure you’d be pissed and leave. I can’t believe you’re still here." He looked about near tears again, his words said in a breathless tone.

The future opportunity of sex with a stranger had slipped his mind that quickly.

Michael slowly approached me, a wary hand held out to grab onto my clothing. "I’m sorry, Brian." I had no idea what he was apologizing for. He stepped closer, seeming to desire my warmth, companionship and protection. "I don’t know what’s wrong with me." He could barely acknowledge the man he’d danced with who seemed to understand he’d lost his *date* for the night. "Get me outta here. Suddenly, I can’t wait to go home."

I brought out one arm, tucked it about his waist to hold him to my side. I dipped my head, pressing a loving kiss to his cheek. I squeezed him close. "Whatever you want, Mikey. You’re in control tonight." I wanted him to know he didn’t have to make his heightened libido dormant to appease my baser feelings of hurt. I needed him to know that he could still leave with the other man, but ultimately it was Michael’s decision to make.

The choice was made more obvious by Michael sinking into my easy embrace. I glanced up to find those stranger’s eyes drawn to my face. I stared, showing him where Michael’s loyalty lay. Michael never saw the pass off we made to one another. The man eventually bumped into an old friend on his way out, so all seemed to be good.

I bent down further, placing my lips near his ear lobe. "He’s gone, Michael. Can we leave now?"

"Huh?" Michael came out of his semi-sleep against my shoulder. "Oh, yeah... sure..." He twirled his jacket around to put on. He wasn’t quite deft at finding the arm holes.

I snickered at his quirky adorableness when high. I helped put the jacket on, making sure to gather the collar together to tug him to my chest. I had him in my sights and clutches. "Are you hungry? Got the munchies?"

Michael shook his head slowly. "Nah, I’m good. Something *fizzy* to drink before I crash might be nice."

"You got it." I broke open my widest smile for Michael, which made him blush and try to hide his face. I quirked my eyebrows in confusion.

Michael reached out a gentle hand to thread his fingers with mine. This time he led us out the door.

And I generously obeyed his very wish.  
 **  
**

**==========tbc...==========  
**

  


  



	2. Chapter 2

**DESOLATION ROAD SERIES - Fic #3**   
** BEFORE YOU WAKE **   
** Chapter Two**

"Brian." The voice was trying to infiltrate the jumbled thoughts of said Brian Kinney. "Brian?"

"Wha-?" I turned my head from the view out the window into the Pittsburgh skyline. Okay, so it wasn’t by any standards up to par with the Manhattan one I’d dreamed about for years, but, surprisingly, I was finding that it was enough for me. Michael had kept his promise to me and I loved him more for it.

The conference room Cynthia and I were in was in the process of remodeling, but served as the main office for now. I’d been deep in my own thoughts, biting on the tip of my pen. I was thinking over some serious issues when Cynthia began chanting my name.

"Where the hell did you go?" Cynthia pushed the leather folder up on the table so she could rest her elbows on the glass table surface. She crooked her arm to lean her cheek on her hand. "You phased out on me there, Brian, while I was talking."

"Hmm? What do you mean? I was right..." I tried to cover up my frazzled mind. I didn’t feel comfortable dumping my problems on my co-partner’s shoulders.

"Please. I’ve worked by your side long enough to know you better than most. I can tell when something is bothering you. I’m not surprised, if that matters." Cynthia flipped her wrist over to glance at her watch. "Michael’s almost an hour late for his lunch date with you. We’ve got a substantial amount of new clients ready for presentation next week. The renovations here are still in progress. AND any day now... you and Michael will be awaiting the baby’s birth. I’d be crazy, as well."

I made a face, frowning at how adept Cynthia was at pinning me down so well. Except she missed a few more problems, ones that were a tad more personal. Things concerning my growing relationship with Michael. "I already knew about Michael postponing lunch. I can hear Debbie from up here."

I gestured to the open radiator plate on the wall, where the raised voices were coming from.

Cynthia bit her lip, rolling her eyes. "She’s been doing that to him nearly every day this week. How can Michael stand it?"

"Michael adores Debbie." I sat forward, paying close attention to the vents that connected the buildings together. The only problem was that by the time the sounds reached the upper floors, they became mumbled and garbled. But it didn’t dispute the rise in anger and frustration.

"That’s a given, Brian. The question is... how does Debbie feel about her son? Sounds like she doesn’t respect his decision making skills at all. I think she’s made him change the colors of the walls about six times. They’ve become behind on the other projects." She shook her head in befuddlement. "Why does Michael think she’s being helpful?"

"Because... she’s his mother. And *mother* is always right."

Cynthia rolled her eyes again, unsure that she had the kind of stamina to withstand that kind of pressure. "Michael’s slated for *sainthood*, for sure ."

"I could easily have told you that." I smirked as I caught sight of the man in question walking down the hollow corridor leading into the conference room. I lifted my head in greeting from a distance. "Hey, Mikey." I swiveled the leather executive chair to face the side, crossing my left leg over my right knee. "Are your ears still ringing?"

"Between Ma and the construction workers..." Michael had to step over some ceiling tiles and plastic material covering a few plaster canisters. "Afternoon, Cynthia." He acted like he was disturbing some important business meeting between Cynthia and I. He stood off, from her right, waiting for an opportunity to approach me freely.

Cynthia pushed back, from the table, knowing the impromptu meeting had been a disaster from the beginning. "Hello, Sweetie." She reached up to give Michael a much needed kiss and a pat on the cheek. "He’s all yours." She saw her shade of lipstick embed itself on his pale skin. She tried to wipe away the evidence. "Have a great lunch, boys." As Michael gave her a strong hand out into the hall, Cynthia sent them both a wink as she walked back to her office.

I stood up from my own chair, walking toward my skyline view. Michael shut the conference room doors, sighing heavily as he leaned his forehead on the cool paneling.

I leaned my left hip on the sill, crossing my arms over my chest. "Tough day?"

"Eh... I’ve had better." Michael turned to lean his back on the doors.

"What pissed Deb off this time?"

Michael cleared his throat, tucking his hands behind him. "She doesn’t agree with my ideas about carpeting certain areas. She thinks tiles or wood flooring might give the store some character."

"Good point. And the reason for the carpets?"

"Cheaper." Michael shrugged at the easiest excuse he could muster.

"Logical, I like that. And WHO owns Red Cape again?" I put a finger to hold my ear lobe out for Michael to say the name.

Michael bowed his head in shame. "I do."

"There you go, Mikey. Problem solved." This time I moved to sit on the sill, crossing my legs as well as my arms. "What else is wrong? Something else is bothering you."

"The very thought of the fire-breathing nagging that will shudder down my spine every time she walks in the store." Michael knew his mother well. I had no doubt she’d rib him for every mistake SHE thought he’d make.

I had to chuckle. Michael looked so adorable when he had to control Debbie. "Yeah. I can hear it echoing, perfectly, all the way up here."

Michael shook his head slowly, slightly embarrassed. "I’m sorry."

"Don’t apologize to me. I feel like apologizing to you. I could try to put a muzzle on her, get a restraining order to keep her fifteen hundred feet away from our businesses." I couldn’t help the hilarious roll I was on. "But first, I need to ask you to turn around."

Michael lifted his head, the tiny smile spreading over his lips. "Why?"

"Just do it, Michael."

Michael pushed off the door paneling, holding his index finger up in a strong gesture of one thought that came to mind. "Wait! I know. My *leash* must be dragging, again."

I had to snicker at his attempt to figure me out. It was a good shot. "No. That’s shortening as we speak." I circled my hand around to show him how to swivel for me. "I simply need to make sure your mother has left me enough ass to admire."

Michael freely lost himself in laughter, for once. He was wandering toward me.

I suddenly realized how rare a genuine smile and a hearty laugh looked on Michael these days. Very few things pleased him anymore. Even the people most treasured in his life tried to drag him down. If they looked at him wrong or crossed words with him, he began to close himself off. The list was growing longer every day.

As Michael took each cautious step, he settled on the opposite side of the window. "It amazes me, more and more, how I can have the shittiest day on Earth, but the minute I catch sight of you or hear your voice..." He stood facing me, leaning his right hip on the sill, tucking his arms around his body. "... everything seems to fall into place. The world feels alright. And the future looks more appealing the longer I stay near you."

Good Glory! I closed my eyes. This whole day was gonna be difficult for me. I uncrossed my arms, placing them at my sides, clasping the sill ledge. "I’m conducting research on a new cologne."

"Don’t be glib, Brian. I’m trying to be serious."

"I know you are, Michael." I couldn’t look at him, so as I turned my head... I chose to look at my skyline view.

Michael saw this as an opportunity to advance further on me. "You exited the bed awful quickly... this morning. I... uh... missed our usual morning snuggle." He tentatively reached his hand out to touch my arm, trying to grip the material covering the appendage.

"I’ve missed you, too, Mikey." I had meant my comment as a *whole* not just about last night.

Michael could sense my distance. He was unsure of where to go. Should he come closer? I wasn’t showing him any of my emotions of the moment. "I think that’s why I’m so cranky today."

"Cranky? You? How does one tell the difference?" I hated sounding so condescending, but coming home after Babylon had open my eyes to more than one thing wrong with our situation. In fact, whatever was attempting to sustain itself as our new, improved relationship.

"You’re still pissed, aren’t you?"

"About?"

"That’s why you left, without a word..." Michael chose to sit like I was on the sill. "... or a kiss." His last words were barely audible, but I heard them. All my senses were in some hyper trance.

"Michael... what the fuck are you talking about?"

"Last night. Babylon."

I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from shouting my frustrations out. The old Brian Kinney would never have wanted to discuss the disaster that happened last night, after I brought Michael back to the loft. "What about it, huh?"

"I thought it was over. I guess we still need to talk about it. It’s obviously upsetting you."

"It upset me because you won’t let the issue die."

"When did our relationship become an *issue*?!?"

I should have told him I couldn’t make our lunch date. I was still angrier than I thought. "It became an *issue*, Michael, when you decided to bring your past sexual partners into the bedroom."

"Excuse me?"

"How much of last night do you truly remember?" I moved to face him, crossing my arms again.

"Enough." Michael couldn’t bear to look at me directly.

"Bullshit! I had to literally carry you in, you were so fuckin’ wasted... or high... or drunk... or one and the other."

"From what I DO recall... you hadn’t done much to stop me from getting that way."

Rolling my eyes, I stretched out my arms. "What am I? Your fuckin’ *keeper*? I can’t watch you every fuckin’ minute. You’re gonna do what you wanna do when you fuckin’ wanna do it. Hell with the consequences.!" I brushed my hand through the air to show his shallowness.

"Except when YOU are one of those consequences, Brian."

"These are your words, Michael. Then before you collapsed on the bed, you finally confessed to me what you’d taken a *hit* of." I wiped a hand over my face. "I fuckin’ sat by your side all night, you little asshole."

"Do I NOT sound appreciative, Brian?! I know what you did for me." Michael turned to face me. There was still a wide amount of distance between us. "My system wasn’t used to any of it. A little went a long way."

"Tell me about it!"

It began to dawn on Michael how angry I really was. There was something I wasn’t mentioning to him, yet harboring in my heart. I didn’t even know if I could do it. Make Michael see how much he could... HAD... hurt me.

"Shit! You are massively pissed!"

I tried to walk away from the sill, pushing off the ledge. "Yeah, well, if you knew what had happened... you’d be feeling the same betrayal.." I hesitated, I didn’t move quick enough.

"Betrayal?! Christ! You’re acting like I kicked you while you were already down and out." Michael had quickly grasped my biceps, pulling me back toward him. "What the hell did I do?"

I couldn’t budge for him. Not one inch. I felt the soft hand smooth over my muscles, attempting to loosen their tightness. "If I tell you... will you promise to drop this whole fucking nonsense? It’s embarrassing enough to know that it’s ONLY God and I that know what happened."

"I promise, Brian... I swear." Michael sidled his warm body up along my back.

The intense heat of him seared right through me. I knew I was a goner if I didn’t keep him away from me. I pushed him back, keeping distance between us. "Please. Don’t touch me, Michael. This is difficult to say without you distracting me." I had my back to him the entire time I talked.

I heard the soft footfalls of his shoes as he stepped as far away as he could. "Okay, I’m sorry. How’s this?"

I turned, slightly, to find he moved nearly halfway across the room. I nodded my head in acceptance as I began my usual pace I used for client meetings. "About 1 AM we were walking through the loft door. You were sort of stumbling on your feet, but I carried you the rest of the way in. I had some idea you’d crash on the bed. I had decided, early on, that I’d take the couch for the night. But, you... seemed to have other ideas. One thing on your mind and you’d try any means to get what you wanted most..."

"Which was?" Michael’s voice sounded so small and fragile.

"A good, hard... nasty fuck... from..." I swiveled around, spreading out my arms widely. "ME... finally."

Michael snapped his head back. "I didn’t really use those exact words, did I?"

I slowly unbuttoned my silk suit shirt and allowed Michael to see what was all over my back.

"Brian! I did that?! To you?!" I could hear the crinkling of plastic as he crawled back over to me, wanting to come nearer.

Once we were face to face, I stared down at his wide, worried, shameful chocolate eyes. I reached out to cup his face in my hands. "Hey! I let you do this to me. I wanted you just as badly as you did, but..."

Michael sunk toward my chest, trying to soothe my shivering skin. "But what?" His sorrowful eyes were filling with tears, unshed. He attempted to kiss away my pain, at any cost.

I took him by the shoulders to steady him, make him remain still. "But then... you told me you loved me..."

Michael’s jaw dropped down in shock. "I did?"

I quirked the corner of my mouth up. "Or so I thought." My shaking hand reached out to caress his jaw, my thumb tracing his mouth, finding the curves mesmerizing.

Michael squinted his eyes in confusion. "What do you mean?"

I tried to put my shirt back on, covering my naked skin. I felt oddly vulnerable, like I did last night. "You said, *I love you*, but I guess I should have stayed around for the name it was being addressed to."

Michael out a palm over his mouth. "No!"

I fixed my shirt collar, rolling up my cuffs to mid-forearm. "You called me *Ben*."

There! It was off my back. Out in the air.

So... why didn’t I feel any better?

Both hands went to cover Michael’s face. "Oh, Dear God! What have I done!?"

"It could have been worse... you know, being called *David* would have REALLY sucked." I tried to laugh off my nervous tension. I knew this would hurt Michael ten times as worse as it was slowly killing me.

After all this time with Michael, thinking I was doing him right, helping him along. That we had grown close. That the dynamics of our relationship had changed and brought us together. I hadn’t done a god damn thing for him.

And really... what could I do for him? He had to want to heal on his own. I couldn’t force him into anything. I couldn’t make him feel something that he doesn’t.

I wanted out of this room. Or at the very least, open the closed doors, or a window.

Michael paced back to the window, trying to wipe away the falling tears with the cuff of his shirt. "Do you hate me, Brian?"

I had paused near another chair at the table. "I could never hate you, Michael."

"You sure about that?. I’ve been a real bastard to you."

"Like you haven’t felt the same thing from me for years? I act like I’m sure about a lot of things in my life, when I’m truly not. But you, Michael... you’re someone I can trust and you deserve my respect. We’ve been through some ungodly shit in our friendship. I can’t just wipe the slate clean of you just because you’re in a *Bad Place* right now."

"Why are you rationalizing my shittiness to you so easily?"

"Because though you and I differ in most things, we are similar where it counts. You’ve proven that to me time and time again. I’ve been where you are, Michael. It’s not a nice place to be outside yourself, even when you’re awake."

Michael nodded his head in understanding as he sat down on the sill, again. He looked weakened and lost. Kicked in the gut. "I didn’t lie, Brian. Take out those words and they are truer than they’ve ever been. I DO love you."

I had to look away or my own tears would fall. I had to be strong and show Michael I couldn’t be defeated so easily. "I know you do."

The silence that followed was deafening.

I knew what Michael had waited for. Those words that showed him I felt the same way, too.

Michael tried to inhale on a shuddering breath. It sounded broken and laced with sobs. He frantically wiped at his eyes, wanting to show the same strength I was.

Ha! Little did he know how close to being like him I truly was. I cleared my throat. "What were your ideas for lunch."

"You still wanna have lunch with me?"

Michael’s innocent question made me laugh, awkwardly. "Yeah. Despite your bastard tendencies... you’re a cool guy to hang around with."

A small, weak smile slipped out. "Well, I thought we could pick Gus up from the Mommies. It’s a gorgeous day out. And I found this nice, beautiful park nearby. Sort of a slight walking distance to get to, but worth it."

I nodded my head in agreement with his thoughts. "Sounds enchanting. I suppose you packed a lunch, being that we’ll have the prodigal son with us?"

Michael shrugged. "Well, yeah, I did. Do you mind?"

"Nope." I moved about the room to find my suit jacket and keys. "You get the kid, bring the basket and meet me there. I have a few things to take care of..." I noticed Michael didn’t move one inch when made my way to the conference room doors. "Michael?"

"Huh?"

"It’s not our death sentence. It just means a few things are gonna have to change for us to move on."

"Together?"

"Always, Michael. You know that." I could see he was ready to burst out sobbing again. "Shit! Come here." I held open my arms for him to run into. The minute he crawled under my jacket, he was unable to sound coherent. I allowed him this moment to let everything sink in. I rubbed his back and soothed his terrified emotional state.

Michael probably thought this was gonna be the end of our friendship. I was stronger than any of the men Michael had picked in his life to love and share his days with. I had the stamina to withstand more fierce demons. I wasn’t gonna let a mild slip of the tongue sever what we had built.

To me, it was just someone telling us to step back, for now. We weren’t quite ready to make this relationship a *go*.

And when I did accept Michael into my life as something much more than a best friend... I wanted things to be as perfect as they could be.

Christ! I think we both deserved a good break from tragedy, for once in our lives.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**

  
I can’t put one foot in front of the other. I’ve walked this far, to the park Michael talked about, but I can’t move another fucking inch. I’m hooked by the scene before me.

My son and my best friend. Gus and Michael. Sonnyboy and Mikey.

I love both with the same intensity, but the reasons for that love differ greatly.

Dark raven hair is bent, brushing against light brown/sable hair. Both of them are pale and flushed from overexertion. The ruddiness to their cheeks shows they’ve been wildly adventurous and active.

I like watching Michael with Gus. His love is infectious, compassionate and unconditional. I know, if I died today, my son would be in good hands.

They’re playing by the pond’s edge, trying to feed the ducks day old stale bread.

Gus is fearless when approaching the animals in the water. Michael’s a tad more cautious, apprehensive about Gus splashing so wildly in the water and losing his balance. The closer Gus wanders, the more the ducks quickly dart, eating the scraps of food directly from his hand. There’s a slight nip to his skin that tickles. Gus is ecstatically happy as he squeals loudly, moving to latch onto Michael’s thigh for protection. Michael can’t help but giggle in kind. His hand goes down to ruffle through Gus’ mop of hair, then smoothes over to rub at the small, tense back.

Being with Gus is addictive to a child-like man like Michael. He’s pure fun at any age, but with children he’s a masterful genius. And I’m feeling a tad jealous of my own son. That I’m not there sharing the moment.

I know Michael needs this time. He needs to know that the world moves on, despite the intense pain he’s going through. He has to believe he can go forward into another relationship, with bigger and better possibilities. Most of all, Michael needs to be reassured that he’s worthy of love. And if he’ll allow me, I can be the very man to show him that very truth.

Using the last slice of stale bread, Michael bends down to pick up Gus. Gus is slightly disappointed that there’s no more bread to feed the ducks with. Michael can see the sorrow fill Gus’ little face. So, of course, he can’t just simply lift the kid in his arms. Michael has to swing and fly him through the air, causing Gus to be distracted.

Gus’ laughter echoes through the breeze, ruffling the leaves of the tree I’m leaning on. This extremely profound moment hasn’t slipped Michael by. When he’s done clowning around with Gus, the cuddles and kisses are sure to follow. I never doubted that Michael wouldn’t be an excellent father.

It’s not because Michael didn’t have a father and it’s not because he was raised by a strong willed and minded mother. No... at some point during the transition from childhood into being an adult, a person begins to *own* their character. They become responsible for their actions to certain situations. That’s how we weed out individuality. You don’t mimic a member of your family or one of your friends. You incorporate all the little pieces, tiny fragments, of the people you’ve encountered in your life. Then, you try your hardest to bend shape and mold yourself to *fit*, somehow, in your own skin.

There’s no one else, on the good Earth, like my best friend, Michael... and I’d like to keep things that way.

Now, Michael is pretending to *lug* a lightweight Gus back to the picnic table as if he were a ton of bricks.

I find this the perfect time to interrupt my guys in their playtime. But before I can take my next step, my cell phone chimes.

Michael’s head swivels to spot the noise. I get the most breathtaking wide smiles I’ve ever seen on him as he holds up a hand to wave his fingers at me.

Digging out my phone from my pant’s pocket, I return the favor, walking toward him.

"Hel’o?" I squinted up at the patch of bright sunlight escaping between the tree limbs.

"Is Michael with you?"

The voice is unmistakably rough and grim. "And a *Howdy-Hey* to you, as well, Mel." I made my voice sound way too cheery for Brian Kinney at any time of day.

"Fuck! Just put him on, Brian. Michael must have turned his phone off. I’ve been trying to reach him."

I plopped down next to Michael on the bench seat. "Yes, Sir!" I mock-saluted as I passed my phone to Michael.

Michael had been seated, taking things out of the packed picnic basket. "What is it?"

"The wicked, evil sorceress, summoning you, wants to know where she can get Eye Of Newt and Yak’s Blood on short notice." I leaned back on the table top to face the water.

Michael snickered, snatching the phone from my hands. He placed the extension on his ear. "Mel? Is everything alright?" He hefted Gus over to me as he climbed out of the bench seat. He wanted to move away to get better reception and for privacy.

Standing on the bench, Gus wandered over. He was intently staring at me, with those disarming, accepting eyes of his. A small grin played on his lips. He was always a bit guarded around me, at first. Who could blame him? I was quite intimidating to meet. Despite my callous, sarcastic nature, Gus always saw through my outer layer. It amazed me to know that my son’s first instinct was to run, jumping into my arms. That was how Michael always greeted him. I couldn’t feign disinterest for too long. Plus, Gus was giving me a complex.

"Hey, Gus. Potty trained, yet?"

Gus let his smile broaden. When my son got older, I knew I’d have a fantastic sparring partner for witty comebacks. "Hey, Daddy."

"Did you help Michael make lunch?"

Gus shook his head as he took a space near my biceps, on the table top. "No. Mommy made it. I watched."

I had draped my right arm on the table’s surface, rolling back my shirt cuffs.

Gus became enthralled by what I had around my wrist. "W'as this, Daddy?"

"A bracelet."

Gus was mesmerized, his tiny fingers ran over the delicate braided rope and pure white shells. "Can I have one?"

"Someone made this for me." I didn’t mean to sound pissy. I had begun to watch Michael, from afar. His back was turned to me. I wasn’t able to see the expressions on his face. Only the way he dipped his head, kicking at the twigs and leaves covering the ground.

Michael had an arm tucked across his chest, using it to prop up his elbow of the hand holding the cell phone. He was deep in conversation. I felt terrible just sitting and watching him, like I was invading his privacy. I was only making sure he’d be okay.

"You hungry, Gus?" I tried to turn to begin where Michael had left off. I had to reach around Gus on the table, who didn’t seem to want to move.

"Kind of." Gus was incapable of being swayed from the bracelet. He rolled my wrist around to figure out how the ties were done up. "Daddy, can you...?"

I heard the click of my phone being shut closed. The call had been ended.

Only Michael remained standing still, looking out over the water. His shoulders slightly hanging.

"Gus," I had to yank my arm back into my possession. "Can you do Daddy a favor?" I quickly stood to walk up to Michael after giving my son some simple instructions. I reached out a hand of comfort, palm flat to his back. "Hey, Michael, I..."

Michael didn’t lift his head, but he did move enough to show one side of his features to me. "Hey, Bri." He passed me back the phone, wanting to desperately pull away and retreat into his shell. "Thanks for letting me..."

Something major had been discussed. Michael didn’t seem to feel comfortable in verbalizing what had been talked about.

When I took the phone, I kept a hold of his fingers, tugging him closer. "Everything okay?" I swung our meshed hands together.

Michael shook his head, paused to close his eyes as he put his other palm to his face. He closed his eyes to quell the aches. "I'm sorry. I’m giving you the wrong idea. Mel’s fine. The baby’s healthy and thriving." His hand dropped, but his head turned away, the tears falling softly. "The doctors want to be extra cautious during these later months. Mel’s past medical history and my shitty genetics... well, this poor kid has about a fifty-fifty chance of having complications, during birth or following... or being perfectly fine." He let out a long, heavy sigh.

"What kind of odds are those? Sounds pretty shitty, wishy-washy, to me. At least with 30-70 or 60-40 you’d have some leverage to work with." I noticed the smile Michael was trying to hold back. "What? What is it?"

"She moved. She kicked... just a few minutes ago." Michael became so giddy he swayed on his feet, reaching out to kiss me. As he drew back, he quirked an eyebrow up in challenge.

Man, did it feel odd to feel a sudden desire to *Thank* Melanie. "I always knew Mel was born of a Demon Seed. Sad to hear she had to fall so quickly." I tried to come up with another tease, a jab, but Michael’s use of THAT particular pronoun had slipped past me. "Mikey..."

"Yeah..."

"*She*? A girl? A daughter?" The word and the idea began to fascinate me. My mind had a hard enough time grasping that Michael would even decided to father a child. Now that the baby was becoming real, more so every day... each minute seemed more poignant and precious.

The tears pooling in Michael’s eyes shimmered in the sunlight, catching on his long sooty eyelashes and falling down his cheeks. "I know. I’m in awe. Can you believe it? Me, a father?"

"Yes! You’ve been a great *father* to Gus. You’ll do fine, Mikey." I couldn’t stand NOT holding him close any longer. As I drew him near, Michael burrowed in his usual place in my arms. "I’m so proud of you."

"I’m proud of me, too. But, mostly, I can’t help feeling a bit sad." Michael arched back in my grip.

"Why?"

"I think we need to talk. Discuss a few things. And I need to properly beg forgiveness, on my knees. You’ve been my shoulder, my gentle strength throughout this whole mess. I’m sure I’ve managed to abuse that privilege. I don’t want to lose you."

"You won’t, Mikey. That’s impossible. Can’t happen."

"Where did my old Brian go? You need to be angrier at me." Michael jiggled my biceps into becoming more upset.

"Why rewind? I like who I’m turning out to be... with you. What would it prove to be angry at you? Spewing useless, hurtful words? That’s not how I really feel about you."

Michael shook his head. "I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know if I want to be that *Michael* of many months ago. Nor do I want the one who surfaced last night. I’m frightened that I’ve done more damage than you’re willing to admit."

Placing my hands, linked together, at Michael’s nape, I made him look directly at me. "Let it go. I have. Only one fact remains after everything that’s happened... and I’d rather stick to that, than anything else we may say to one another."

Michael lifted one side of his mouth, in glee. "What’s that?"

"I do, Michael." I swallowed my tendency to keep this feeling a secret, sugar-coating it with glib comments. "I love you, Michael."

Michael bowed his head, letting his silent tears fall. Relief poured out of him that he had known this fact all along, but overjoyed that I was willing to admit it, freely. Also, that no matter what he did, my love for him never faltered. "Thank you." He tried to wipe away the moisture.

"Shit! Don’t *thank* me!" I pulled him back into my arms.

Michael hung onto my clothing for dear life. His mouth found it’s way close to my ear. "I love you, too, Brian." There was s small, tender kiss to the space below my ear.

We held onto one another for what seemed like forever.

Gus jumped down to inspect our suspended embrace. See if he could worm his way in between us. He managed to work his way through, hanging onto both our pant legs. I hefted Gus up into my arms.

A light breeze blew and I felt the chill on my face. I reached up a hand to wipe away my own tears that had fallen without my knowledge. Michael’s hands met mine on my cheek.

"We still need to talk, Brian."

I wrapped an arm about Michael’s neck, dragging him back toward our little family picnic. "I know, but... later. We’ll talk later." I brushed back a lock of Michael’s hair, pushing our foreheads together.

"Promise?" Michael shut his eyes in pleasure. He reached up to latch onto my forearm, sliding his hand down to my wrist where he found the old cowry shell bracelet back on. That alone told him more profound things than my own mouth ever could. Things I still wasn’t willing to admit to.

"Always, Mikey."

**==========THE END==========**


End file.
